


I Saw You Two

by TomFD



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Cousin Incest, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Half-Sibling Incest, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomFD/pseuds/TomFD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya's back in Winterfell, after all. When she arrives, she can't help to notice major changes in her siblings's relationship. Late at night, she hears and sees things she shouldn't, and she struggles with the way everything shifted while she wasn't home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I've been on this site reading Jonsa for months, and I decided to give it a try. Here's my first attempt at fanfiction in english, kinda smutty, i believe. Definetely NSFW. 
> 
> Oh, and I'm typing this on my phone aaaaand english isn't my first language so there's probably going to be some mistakes and typos. But still.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: The world and characters of GoT and ASoIaF portrayed in this work do not belong to me, but to George RR Martin.

The long trip back home took it's toll on Arya's body. Several weeks on horseback had her back and bottom in pain, her hands were numb from holding the reins and she was filthy,  _beyond what she would normally care about._ But seven hells, it would be worth it. To be back in Winterfell,  _her home_. To hear the snow crunching beneath her feet, to see it cover the vast lands that belonged to her family in pure white, to return to the Godswood where she would spend so much time with her siblings as a child. 

 _Her siblings._ Fuck she missed them. She had heard the news about Jon and Sansa taking the castle back from the Bolton bastard, whose house, along with the Umbers, had dissapeared. _For good,_ she thought.

 _Her siblings_. She always thought of Jon while travelling through Westeros and Essos. She always got along with him, both of them being somewhat outcasts in Winterfell. Not fitting. Him, a bastard forced to watch as his half-siblings got everything they wanted just because of their name, when all he wanted was to have his chance. Her, a tomboyish little girl who only wanted to wield a sword and a shield, to shoot arrows at evil men, to ride her horse into the battle. She had to recognize, though, that they got what they wanted. After much suffering, yes, and to face the horrors life hadn't prepared them for. But in the end, she had her sword, her horse and she killed evil men. And him? He didn't just have Winterfell. He had the whole fucking North to rule. _The King in the North_. The corner of her mouth curved upwards, a small grin forming when she thought of how far the outcasts had gotten.

And then, there was Sansa.  _Ugh._ She hated to admit it but she missed her, even when her perfect, beautiful big sister, always favoured by her mother and everyone in the castle, had treated her terribly.  _"Look! It's little Arya Horseface!,"_ _Stupid Sansa exclaimed, laughing with stupid Jeyne Poole by her side._

 _But she missed her._ The perfection in her manners, her courtesies, her beauty, her flawless hair. Things she used to hate or envy while growing up, that now she remembered with a smile on her face. She couldn't wait to see her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud horn blowing, startling her. The large wooden gates stood in front of her. Her eyebrows knitted together, until she heard one of the guard shout. "Open the gates! Get the King!"

Relieved, she released a sigh. She was home.

She got down from her horse, as a stable boy approached her to get the brown animal to eat, drink and replenish it's energy.

She looked around. Winterfell looked like shit. It was the truth. It was burnt, the grey stone of the walls blackened by fire, so were the wooden rails and doors. It was battered, broken and cracked. And yet, it felt like home. And it felt even more like home when her eyes caught sight of a man, broad shoulders, dark hair pulled back on a tight and simple knot, wearing a traditional northern fur coat, a brown leather vest, and breeches the color of the burnt stone of the castle. A sword on his left hip, with the pommel modelled in the shape of a white wolf, from what she could see in the distance. A wolf that resembled the real, huge one that slowly walked besides the man, white fur and blood red eyes.

 

 _"Seven fucking hells"_ they both said at the same time.

She ran towards him, not caring about how sore her body was from the long trip, and when she reached a suitable distance between the two of them, she jumped into his arms.

They said nothing, they just held each other, until the emotion of the moment weakened their knees and they fell to the snowy ground, making their clothes wet and cold.

She closed her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of her brother. Pine, steel, Snow. She almost didn't notice what he was wearing on his head. A crown, somewhat roughly crafted, made of bronze with little, pointy iron swords on it. The crown the old Kings of Winter used to wear.

She felt him shudder and shiver in their embrace. Sobbing.  _What a pussy,_ she thought, before noticing that warm tears were rolling down her cheeks as well. They were both weeping, tears of joy came from their eyes. The outcasts of Winterfell, finally reunited after so many years.

When they separated, he took her right hand in his left, as his right gloved digits travelled to her cheek, to wipe one of the tears she had released. He was smiling from ear to ear, and so was she. She had been his shadow during their childhood, and now they were back together.

"You're back," Jon said in a low voice, almost a whisper. The grin hadn't faded from his face.

"I am. I felt in my heart that you were brooding somewhere and I knew I had to come. Your Grace" she answered, emphasizing the last two words. Her smile not dissapearing either.

He snorted at the mention of his recently acquired title, and then he stood up, helping her straighten up as well.

"You know that makes you a princess, right?," he said, half joke, half seriously.

Arya rolled her eyes, and looked around her once more. Grey sky, grey walls, grey banners, white ground, white wolf, red hair, brown leather, brown horse...

_Wait._

_Red hair._

_Sansa._


	2. Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Sansa were never close, but upon seeing each other again after years of pain and loss, they just give in. The sisters of Winterfell are together to face the Winter that just came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoaaaa! The feedback! I didn't expect this, I'm really happy that you liked chapter one, and now you've inspired me to update the story right away.
> 
> So here's chapter two. Hope you enjoy!

_Red Hair._

_Sansa._

Arya had just wiped the tears she had shed when she saw Jon, and now she felt them watering her eyes again.

Her sister, all perfect as she always was, dressed in a woolen grey dress, ornamented with blue embroidery, hands clasped in front of her. Her face was one of disbelief, her lips shut in a thin line and furrowed eyebrows that made a few wrinkles appear in the ivory skin of her forehead.

She saw Sansa blink quickly, as if trying to vanish any illusion she thought she was tricked with, or as if restraining tears from falling to her cheeks. Or both.

Arya walked slowly towards her big sister, with sad eyes but a small grin in her lips. Coming closer to her, she noticed that Sansa had failed to contain the streams of water that had originated in her Tully blue eyes.

Suddenly Sansa started walking, her hands still clasped, but trembling at the same time. When she got close enough, she extended her arms and took Arya between them, peppering her head and face with kisses and gently caressing her short hair.

Arya didn't expect such a spectacle from the redhead. Sure, she knew Sansa must've missed her, but her surprise was big with her sister's love demonstration. She smelled of lemon, lavender and smoke, surely from sitting near a hearth, to fight the freezing cold of Winterfell. Hot springs or not, the castle was still cold as fuck, a chill that crept inside the depths of the body and made you yearn for thick furs and a big fire next to you.

So Arya hugged Sansa back. She felt her scent, her warmth, her loving caresses and kisses. She was definetely home. 

Jon silently stood besides them, with his hands clasped on his back. Sansa smiled, extending her left arm to invite him in the embrace. The broody bastard Arya knew would have hesistated and recoiled, but King Jon happily accepted the invitation, taking both sisters in his arms, wide shoulders that provided them with a kind of safety she hadn't felt in a long time.

"You need a bath Arya", Sansa slowly spoke.

Well, what a way to kill the mood. The dark haired girl chuckled, and then snorted and released a loud laugh. An unappealing sound for a lady to make, Septa Mordane had once told her. But seven hells, she wasn't a lady, was she? In fact, she was  _everything_ but a lady. A warrior, a trained assassin. A girl with no name. A girl with a name. The Stark name.  _'A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I'm going home'_ she rememebered saying to Jaquen, while pointing her little sword, Needle, at the faceless man's chest. 

And promise fulfilled, she was home, with her favorite brother and her not-so-favorite sister. And she loved them, and she was whole, and happy. Well,  _whole._ She would be if her father, her mother, Robb and Rickon were there as well.

She knew they were dead. Ned, unfairly decapitated because he discovered too much. Catelyn, throat slit to the bone, her lifeless body thrown to the river, mocking the traditional Tully funerals. Robb, shot, stabbed, decapitated. Grey Wind's severed head sewn into his master's neck, and paraded for everyone to see the might of the King in the North. And Rickon. The little one. An arrow through his heart ended his short life, the Bolton bastard being the one who drew, knocked and loosed death upon her little brother.

But that didn't matter now. She still had Jon and Sansa, an she even held hope for Bran, wherever he was. The White Wolf, the Red Wolf and the Little Wolf, together.

The three of them ended the embrace, smiling, tears down their faces, and Jon spoke.

"I'll have a serving lady draw a bath and gather clean clothes for you, little wolf. Are you hungry?"

Arya's eyebrows shot upwards at the mention of a hot meal. She hadn't had a proper one in weeks, often relying on whatever rabbit or any other small animal she could carry, skin and cook for herself. In that matter, she missed Hot Pie. Gods he could cook.

"Of course! I've been riding for weeks, eating rabbits and other things I'd rather not think about right now. I could use a nice meal." She happily exclaimed to her brother.

They started walking towards the keep, and then Arya saw something that really caught her attention. Sansa was walking, arm in arm with Jon, and with her head slightly tilted to her side, resting on his right shoulder. Alright, she knew  _she_ wasn't close with Sansa, but Jon? They hardly even noticed each other, and when they did, Sansa would often offer a courteous greeting and walk away from him. Jon had long given up trying to bond with Sansa, her mother's influence on her too strong. And nonetheless, there they were, their arms linked, leaning on the other, smiling and laughing. Arya decided to pay no mind to it, not wanting to dig any further into the past and their relationship. She knew they were the first to reunite after so long, so maybe they had achieved a sibling bond after all.

* * *

Once bathed and changed, Arya arrived at the Great Hall to eat with her siblings. Supper was the time they used to tell each other what had happened since they parted ways, to the Wall and King's Landing. Arya learned of Jon's death at the hands of his sworn brothers, ince he had become Lord Commander, about the White Walkers and the Wildlings, about the abuse Sansa suffered from Joffrey, Meryn Trant, and Ramsay Bolton, and she told them about travelling with the Night's Watch, the Brotherhood without Banners, about Harrenhal, about the House of Black and White, becoming a faceless man -or not, to be clear-, and her list, who were in it, and who had already been crossed out of it.

They kept talking for hours, laughing, weeping, smiling and remembering, until sleep won over her. Jon and Sansa escorted her to her old chambers, where a new feather bed had been placed with new tapestries on the walls and a beautiful oaken desk on the corner.

They both kissed her goodnight, and tucked into bed she couldn't help but to think how much they looked like her parents. She blinked a few times upon seeing them, standing together at the foot of her bed, looking like younger versions of Ned and Catelyn and smiling down at her. With a few last blinks, she soon drifted into a light slumber, and then into a comforting and much needed sleep. 

Her lips curved into a smile. Home.

* * *

 

Just a few hours later, she suddenly woke up. An unfortunate night terror had her forehead and neck with a bead of sweat, and goose pimples on her arms and legs. She tried to go back to sleep but, seeing that she was unable, she decided to grab a coat and slippers and go for a walk outside.

It was a nice night. The snowfall had stopped, and it wasn't nearly as cold as she thought it would be in winter. She adjusted her eyes to the darkness, until she reached the battlements of the castle, her path illuminated by the soft light the Moon offered.

She kept walking, and then descended to the yards. She thought of going to the Godswood, but it reminded her of her father, and she didn't want to be brooding and sulking like Jon would, so she thought of the Glass Gardens. Sansa had told her that they were being rebuilt, and that she and Jon would often visit them, overseeing the careful process of restoration.

She set her direction to the Gardens, then. Slowly pacing, her arms crossed in front of her chest, her hands clutching her thin biceps. Approaching her destination, she started hearing some odd noises. Gasps, heavy breathing. Perhaps, someone training nearby? This late? And where?

Then, she heard a high pitched whimper, followed by a long moan.

_Oh._

_"Apparently I'm not the only one who's restless, ha,"_ she thought. She knew she shouldn't, but curiosity bit her. Who were they? Maybe a stable boy and a serving girl, having some fun in the nice winter night, sharing body heat.

With a playful smile on her lips, and a blush on her cheeks, she got closer to where the noises came from. Her eyes were wide when she realised they came from the same glass gardens she was heading to, so she hid and found a nice spot to peep, behind a thick bush. 

She had to contain a gasp, her eyes big with surprise, her mouth slightly open, her hands shaking, when she saw the two loving birds.

_"Holy motherfucking shit"_ she was barely able to say, at the sight of her brother Jon, balls deep in her sister Sansa, thrusting back and forth, her head thrown back in pleasure, his eyes closed and his hand grasping Sansa's right full breast, both gasping and moaning, whispering each other's name.

She felt her stomach stir, and she slowly withdrew from her hiding place, back into the keep.

She couldn't sleep that night, she was thinking about how the fuck she would see their faces in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, how about that? Did you like the spice at the end? How will Arya see them in the morning?


	3. The death of honor, the bane of duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeing them in the glass gardens, Arya struggles with her siblings' relationship

Entering the Great Hall and seeing Jon and Sansa would be hard. And not hard as lifting a big stone from the ground. Hard as fighting a dragon with a spoon, certainly. Sure, after what she had witnessed the previous night, while taking a midnight walk, seeing her siblings go full-Lannister at the recently restored Glass Gardens, it would be an odyssey to face them, to talk to them. 

Arya the bold assassin would normally say something, express her discomfort with the situation and demand an explanation.

Arya who just saw her brother and sister fucking like rabbits, on the other hand, is speechless and remains silent. Sure, but what would she say to them? " _Hey, last night I couldn't sleep so I passed by and I happened to find you fucking the hell out of the other. Funny thing, huh? Somethin' to say?"_

No. Definetely no. Her mind was a tornado of ideas and possible scenarios. How would they react if they knew she knew? Would they stop their affair? Would they tell her to fuck off? Would they recognise that what they were doing was wrong? Would they... make her shut up?

Seven hells. Arya wasn't a particularly religious person, but she knew that bedding your sibling is wrong, sinful. Half siblings or not, the same blood ran through their veins. Eddard Stark's blood. Honorable ol' Ned. Gods, what would he think of them? And her mother! Fuck, she despised Jon. If she knew that her perfect little lady of a daughter was opening her legs to the bastard she couldn't stand to see, she would kill them both and then herself.

But they were dead. Maybe, that was one of the reasons they were going on with this. Both their parents gone, there was no one to shame. Arya wondered if they loved each other, or if they were just fucking to pass the time. Nay, there must be love between them. Jon was too honorable and correct to defile a lady out of marriage, only true love would drive him out of the path he followed without hesitation. Always doing what was right, no exceptions. The same for Sansa, who yearned for perfection, who wanted to be not a lady, but  _ **the**_ lady. If she didn't love Jon, she wouldn't spread her legs for him to fuck her like she had done last night.

Arya sighed. She didn't like this. She would have to confront them eventually. This was wrong, and it had to end immediatly. So she stood from the bed, looked out the window and saw the Sun rising and bathing the lands with it's warmth and light. She splashed some water she had on the washing basin of her chambers on her face, to clean the sleep out of it, then she put on comfortable, clean clothes and with a stern, bold face she left the room, and headed for the Great Hall where Jon and Sansa were probably preparing to break their fast.

When the guard opened the gate for her, her eyes caught the sight of them.  _Ugh_. Sansa was radiant. She had a big smile on her face, sitting next to Jon.  _"Sure, after all that cock who wouldn't be that happy?",_ she thought.  _"And Jon! Look at his face! He's probably wondering how even more fucked up they could get"._ Oh boy. Now the disgust and dislike, was joined by anger. Anger and something else... Jealousy?

No, it couldn't be. How would she be jealous of their sick relationship? Well, maybe not the fucking, but maybe... the smiles she got from Jon. The happiness, the confidence, the trust. She used to own all that before, and once again, her sister was favoured instead of her. That's shitty. But well, if life had taught her something, it was that you don't get what you want, and if you do, you get it after lots and lots of suffering.

Yeah. It was a shitty world with shitty people and shitty rules. And now, her beloved brother loved Sansa, and she loved him, and they kissed and fucked and in the afterglow, they would sleep in each other's arms, inhaling each other's smell and hearing the loving words they had to say.

Sometimes you just have to chew, swallow and try not to taste. Emotions stirred her gut. 

This had to stop.

It would.

"Hey, look who's up early in the mor-" Jon started talking, but Arya interrupted.

"I saw you two. At the glass gardens" was the first thing that came out of her mouth when she reached the long table and sat on the big and heavy wooden chair.

Sansa's face went pale. The smile she was sporting before faded as if it had never ornamented her face. She dropped the fork she was holding, and her hands started shaking. Her gaze went to her plate, like staring at everything and nothing at all, at the same time.

Jon closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He fell onto the back of the chair and drove his hands to his brown orbs, covering his whole face.

"Well, anything to say for yourselves?" Arya suddenly said, sort of in a rush, but very calm at the same time. Her eyes followed them both, in anticipation of the words she would get from them. Lies? The truth? Regret? Remorse? She didn't know.

"Can we talk about this elsewhere? In private?" Jon said, his brow furrowed causing several wrinkles to appear on his forehead, making him look way older than he was.

"Of course. As long as you explain, that is" Arya answered quickly, her arms now crossed in front of her chest. Like a mother scolding her children, stealing cookies from a jar.

* * *

 

Now the three of them stood in the Lord's chambers, but Sansa sat quietly on the bed as soon as the door was closed.

"Well?" Arya said, more harshly than she intended.

"Arya, I... We a-are, uh..."

"Fucking. I know. How?"

"It just happened. I can't put it into words, Arya. What do you want me to say?"

"Jon, you know you can't! It's wrong, for fuck's sake! In the eyes of the Gods-"

"It's not fucking wrong! And don't even mention the Gods, Arya. Don't you dare mention them" Sansa suddenly snapped, startling both her sister and Jon

"But-"

"The Gods have been cruel to us. They've taken everything from us. Our family was torn apart. Our friends slaughtered. Our kingdom crushed. Everything we held dear was ripped from us. Our suffering was the Gods' entertainment. So don't fucking mention them."

Arya was taken aback by her sister's statement, to which Jon had nodded in agreement.

"I don't know what you want us to do, Arya. I love her. She loves me. We make each other happy, in a time where happiness is rare and hard to find. Don't you think we haven't thought this through? What happens if someone... someone who isn't you, someone that isn't close to us finds out? They would have our heads without hesitation," Jon defended Sansa and himself from her accusations.

"But you know what? We've decided not to give a single fuck. What we have...is beautiful. And I wouldn't change it for all the gold, glory and power in the world." An angry look now on his face, his eyes burning with a fire and passion she had never seen before.

Arya's gaze dropped to the stone floor. She knew what they'd been through, and now she wanted to deny them what little happiness they could find in this shitty world, full of shitty people and shitty rules.

_Chew. Swallow. Don't taste._

"Fine. Do as you please. But... be discreet, alright? And no kissing or any of that bullshit in front of me. I'm already having a hard time with this, I don't want it to be any harder, you pair of idiots," Arya finally said. This was wrong. She was angry, disgusted and jealous. All at the same time. But they were happy. And together. And they were home.

_Chew. Swallow. Don't taste._

A smile crept to Jon and Sansa's faces, as they stood up to take her in a loving embrace.

"Thank you," Sansa said softly, contrasting the way she had almost shouted before. Ladylike.

_Chew. Swallow. Don't taste._

She rolled her eyes, and gave in. She couldn't let anyone find out. They'd call them Lannisters. Targaryens. They'd kill them. And they were the only thing she had in this shitty world.

_Chew. Swallow. Don't taste._

_They're happy. You're happy. They're happy. You're happy._

 

_They're fucking._

_That's alright. They're happy. You're happy._

_Happy and at h_ _ome._

_More than enough._

 


	4. How it began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Jon POV
> 
> Jon's thoughts after the heated conversation between them and their little sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love the way the story is developing inside my head, and the way I'm writing it.  
> I'm not sure I can explain the joy I felt when I read your comments, always sending good vibes and encouraging me to continue this work. I just wanted to thank you all for the support and for reading this, just a little idea in my head that became many thousand words, not only for you, but for me as well to enjoy.
> 
> Hope you like this one.
> 
> Oh, and caution. Smut is coming. NSFW. Really.

When the door clicked shut, Jon let out a sigh as relief washed all over him, a stream of quietness and peace that slowly went from his head to his toes. Where there was sweat, now there was dry skin. Weakened knees were now strong. Shaking hands were now still, fingers intertwined with Sansa's.

The initial uneasiness that overcame him the moment Arya spat her accusations had faded, as she expressed her understanding concerning their relationship. Not agreement, certainly. But understanding. It would have to do it by now.

He was sitting on the bed in the Lord's chambers, that belonged to him after much insistence from the girl, no, woman sitting next to him. That's how he saw her. A woman. A lady. His lady. His and no one else's. That thought of possession, he liked it. Sansa Stark was his, and he was hers, and nothing and no one would stand between them.

He recalled having rejected five marriage proposals. Three of them addressed to him. The other two, to Sansa. Glover, Manderly and Hornwood. The three lords of those three houses had offered their young, beautiful daughters' hands in marriage to the new King in the North. No.

Lord Cerwyn had asked for Lady Stark's hand. No. And then there was the proposal that he actually _enjoyed_ refusing. Littlefinger's. Definetely no. The look on the snake's face when he used his most menacing voice tone, to speak a single "No" was something that amused him. A mixture of dissapointment and anger he rememebered with a grin.

He had refused them all, for his heart only belonged to the auburn haired, blue eyed, tall woman that he once called 'sister'. Sansa Stark.

He was shaken out of his thoughts and memories by Sansa's hand squeezing his, her lips on his cheek. He turned and caught her in a passionate kiss, gently putting his hand on her neck. The flavor of her lips was his favorite. Lemon cakes, dornish wine and a little bitterness from the ale they ussually drank together, sitting in front of the fireplace. A tradition they had started at Castle Black, now they did it almost every night.

When they parted,  her stunning blue eyes pierced through his, love and tenderness and passion and madness. The good kind of madness. The madness they shared for each other. She reserved those gazes only for him. So she did with her smiles, her laughter, her gentle touch. Her body.

And now, staring at the beautiful woman he loved, he could clearly remember the first time they shared a bed. The night they became one.

_The battle had been won. Bolton banners -and bannermen- were being burned outside the walls of Winterfell. Ramsay's torn body as well._

_The King in the North!, Lord Glover shouted. All the other lords raised their swords too, declaring him their ruler. What would he do? A bastard did not get training on kingship. Seven hells, most bastards didn't get anything. But he had to carry on. He had given up the weight of being Lord Commander of the Night's Watch only to carry the much heavier weight of a whole kingdom. But he would do it. Not for the people. Not for those pretentious lords and ladies, but for Sansa. She truly deserved to live in peace at her home._

_After the celebration feast had ended, Jon escorted Sansa to her chambers. It had been a long day, and now they wanted to get some rest. They knew the day after would be harder, and the day after that one even more._

_When she opened the door, she had an expectant look on her face. "Are you coming in? The ale is already on the table," she said to him softly. He hesitated. It wouldn't be proper for a him to be in her chambers that late at night, considering-_

_"Please?"_

_Well, some ale wouldn't hurt._

_While she poured the beverage in two identical cups, he added some logs to the almost extinguished fire of the hearth. He laid a thick fur blanket on the cold stone of the floor, and Sansa quickly joined him, giving him the mug of ale._

_For some minutes they just stared into the fire, not saying anything. Occasionally sipping on the bitter drink._

_Sansa broke the silence first._

_"So, King in the North huh?"_

_"Yup. So it seems."_

_Awkward. He really thought she should have been declared their Queen, for everyone to worship her. To do as she pleased, to keep her happy. He certainly would._

_He was uneasy. She was uneasy. The memory of Ramsay hadn't faded. He could notice that she remembered, when he often saw her staring at nothing and tightly clasping her hands together. Rubbing her wrists with her fingers._

_"You...you know he's not here anymore, right?" Jon said with a worried look on his face._

_Sansa breathed deeply, and answered._

_"I know. Trust me. I saw him being torn apart. I saw him dissapear. He is gone. I'm not his anymore."_

_Her braveness warmed his heart. She had endured so much, and there she was. Standing. Refusing to fall. He was the coward, wanting to run south after the mutiny. Despite that they crowned him and not her. Shitty world._

_"Thanks Sansa."_

_She flinched._

_"For what?_

_"You gave me a purpose, you know? Something to live, fight and die for. It's what I needed and you gave it to me"_

_"Jon, don't be silly, this-"_

_"No, listen to me Sansa." Now he was facing her. "I want to protect you. I don't care that you think nobody can. I'm more than willing to try. You're all I have. You represent everything I hold dear right now. And I want to keep it that way. Will you let me?"_

_Suddenly, tears gathered in her eyes. Her eyebrows slightly furrowed. Her mouth open, just a little bit._

_She didn't say anything. She just crashed her lips with his. He was shocked, but it didn't last. He closed his eyes and kissed her back. Oh, it felt good, really good. It shouldn't, but it truly did. They deepened the kiss, Jon ran his tongue on her lower lip and she parted her mouth. Their tongues danced together, Sansa's right hand dropped the mug and went straight to the back of his neck, almost desperately. Jon caressed Sansa's cheek with his left hand, and then he ran it through the thick curtain of auburn her mane was._

_His lips moved to the corner of her mouth, then her jawline and finally her neck. Sansa lost it when she felt the trail of kisses Jon was leaving. Swiftly, she drove her hands to her back and undid the laces of her dress. Much to her surprise, Jon helped her get rid of the uncomfortable woolen piece of clothing. So he wanted it as bad a she wanted it._

_Now, only a thin dress and her smallclothes prevented her nudity. Jon got rid of his tunic and shirt, his chest exposed to her. Six marks adorned his abdomen. Scars. Already fading. The one that called her attention was the seventh, above his heart. She touched it and he flinched, but then he relaxed._

_"We're both a little broken," she said "but we're going to fix each other". With that she pulled him back into a deep kiss. She took the hem of her dress and pulled it above her head, throwing the garment aside. Her silk smallclothes were the only thing that covered her._

_Jon gently put his hand on her waist and continued to lay small kisses down her neck, her clavicles, her chest. He looked at her, as if seeking permission, and she nodded. He removed the piece that covered her round, full breasts, and peppered them with open mouthed kisses, until he reached her left nipple and covered it with his lips. She moaned, as Jon ran his tongue over the sensitive peak of her teats, making them hard. He took Sansa's right breast in his large hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Sansa was whimpering, waves of newly found sensations washed the memory of Ramsay away._

_Jon took a deep breath through his nose, Sansa's nipple still between his lips, as she tangled her slim fingers in his black curls, and let out a small growl. His mouth left her precious breast and wondered lower, reaching the soft skin of her belly. He kissed it all over, around her navel, her hipbones, every little fading scar. He went lower and once again, he looked upwards, to meet her gaze. Seeking her approval. She just nodded, the she just threw her head back, her hair almost reaching thd fur blanket they were laying on._

_Jon slided the lower piece of her smallclothes, and she was naked like the day she was born. He never felt like this. His cock had never been harder. He thought it would pierce through his own smallclothes and breeches._

_He admired the sight. Her slim calves, her knees, her thighs. A small, thin patch of red hair covering her pink, already wet and slick folds. No, he wouldn't last. Not with the goddess in front of him. Carved out of the finest ivory._

_He lowered his head, and began kissing the inside of her pale thighs, going further and further until he reached the treasure. Sansa's moan of pleasure ignited Jon, set him ablaze._

_With the tip of his tongue, he slightly parted the pink lips of Sansa's cunt. That little touch was enough for her to drive her hand to the back of his neck, the other one giving her support. She spread her legs further apart, giving Jon more access to a place she never thought of sharing with a man again._

_Jon was in heaven. He had a new favorite place on Earth. Between Sansa's legs, licking and kissing and nipping, feasting on her delicious cunt. His skilled tongue roamed the lenght of Sansa's slit up and down. When he got enough of it, when he felt that Sansa was shuddering and shaking, bolts of pleasure through her body and her heels digging on his back, he entered her with his tongue. And that was it. Sansa released a high pitched, long moan with her peak, something she'd never felt before._

_"Jon, ah... please... I need...take me" she said between gasps. Her eyes half closed, breathing heavily. She was going to be the death of him._

_He quickly unfastened the laces of his breeches, pulling them down along with his smallclothes. His hard cock sprang free, already leaking in anticipation. A thick blue vein went all around his lenght._

_He placed the tip in front of Sansa's entrance, rubbing it up and down her slit. Teasing her._

_"Jon please! Fuck me already!" Whoa. He didn't expect that. She didn't either, but excitement won her over._

_And so, with a groan, Jon pushed his cock inside of her, warmth an wetness surrounding him. Tight. He would make it last._

_He went slowly at first. She felt full. A pleasant sensation that made her moan loudly and clutch the fur blanket to her sides._

_Then Jon started thrusting faster. She found herself lifting her arse so that she could meet his thrusts, practising a rhythm together. A bead of sweat was on her forehead, neck and bosom, her wetness dripping down her arse cheeks from her cunt. Everytime Jon withdrew his cock and pushed it back inside, it rubbed the small, swollen bundle of nerves and it made her feel just great. She couldn't quite explain what she was feeling. Pleasure. Peace. Love, for the man who was between her legs. Only him, she promised._

_Jon took both her legs in his arms, and pushed them above his shoulders for them to rest there. He felt his balls tighten, he was close. He lowered himself down to kiss Sansa's parted lips. She wasn't there. She was drifting through clouds of pure pleasure. That sight had him mad. She reached a second peak, and just four of five more thrusts later, Jon took his cock out and had his release, thick spurts of cum shot across Sansa's belly._

_His knees failed him. He managed to collapse besides Sansa, both breathing heavily, their chests going up and down while they tried to recover their breath._

_Sansa wiped his seed with the blanket and then she kissed him. He kissed her back, like if kissing her was his only way to survive in this world. He got up, carrying her to the bed, and then he laid on the soft mattress. Sansa, with her head rested on his chest, soon fell asleep. He pulled the furs up and followed the beautiful girl in his arms to the land of dreams._

 

That's how it had started. Jon smiled at the memory of their first night, a night to remember forever.

He kissed Sansa once more, and they both walked out the room, heading to the Glass Gardens they liked so much.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chew. Swallow. Taste it a little bit. Tastes good.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After much thinking, Arya comes to terms with Jon and Sansa loving each other. 
> 
> "They're happy, you're happy. Happy and at home"
> 
> She likes being happy.
> 
> Set sometime after last episode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This is it. It ends right here, as I intended. This little idea I had in my head soon turned out to be a great story I really enjoyed writing, not only for your delight but for mine as well. It absolutely felt amazing, reading your comments, seeing how many kudos you left, having your support. I just want to thank you, because each comment I got simply made my day. Here it goes, enjoy!

What in an beginning felt wrong and disgusting, now only pleased her. It brought utter joy to her, watching them throw loving glances, sitting next to each other. A bronze and iron crown on his dark locks. A silver and iron tiara, with sapphires as blue as the ocean, adorning her carefully styled, red flaming mane.

King and Queen in the North. The largest kingdom in Westeros. The two most powerful people in thousands of miles, and yet there they were, staring at one another as if they were two younglings whose love had just blossomed.

Seven moons had passed since she arrived at the gates of her home. The very first night, she hadn't been able to sleep, so she walked through the castle until she reached the Glass Gardens, where she found them, fucking. No, making love. At first she thought they were  _only_ fucking, but then she found out they actually kissed and hugged and stared -just like they were now-, they  _loved_ each other. They were undeniably and madly in love, and in the same way it had stirred her stomach to see them that night, so it did now. Only that in a very different way.

She loved them both. They were her siblings. Sansa her sister, the one that mistreated her and called her names and scoffed at her for not being a proper lady. The one that was now Queen in the North, married to Jon, her favorite brother. Well, cousin. Lord Reed had been very clear about it, her aunt Lyanna, Rhaegar Targaryen, the Tower of Joy in Dorne, her father. A promise. She smiled at the thought of her father dishonoring himself and shaming his new wife, who he barely knew, to protect her little sister's babe.

When the man came from Greywater Watch, when he abandoned the Neck after twenty one years and crossed the gates of Winterfell to greet His Grace, when he told Jon he had kept a secret for too long, and then proceeded to reveal said secret to the King, she felt something so utterly weird she couldn't explain. Sadness, happiness, relief, (still) jealousy, pride, shame. The more she thought of his cousin, rather than his brother, the more emotions emerged from deep inside her.

Jon had felt something similar, the sadness of finding out that Ned wasn't his father, the happiness of being able to spend his life with Sansa, the relief of not being a sinner. A frown had appeared on his face upon the revelation, as he bid good night to Lord Reed who had... pity? Aye, pity in his eyes but also looked like he had dropped a heavy stone that he had carried for a long time.

The moment they were alone, Sansa and Arya embraced Jon tightly, and didn't let go in quite a few minutes. 

He was the Dornish Targaryen bastard raised as a Snow of the North by  _not-his-father_ and still, he was peaceful. Arya knew why.

And  _oh she knew_ , as she held her sister's arm, slowly walking her through a narrow path in the Godswood, leading Sansa to her betrothed. A young man, with a black and red cloak gifted to him by his silver haired aunt, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the first of her name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar, Lady of the Six Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, and collector of names and titles and other bullshit.

The young man had his haired very carefully pinned back in an intricate knot. He had soft, greyish brown eyes, a long face, full pink lips and a trimmed dark beard. Broad shoulders, dark hair, long face. Stark through and through, and yet, he wasn't the one carrying the direwolf on his chest. Instead, a fearsome, red three-headed dragon was proudly worn by the man. Jon.

The woman he would marry, the red haired beauty of the North did have a silver direwolf on her. Actually, many, as they adorned her dark gray cloak in a pattern. Her dress was the color of snow and the stones that made Winterfell what it was. Her big blue eyes and fire-kissed hair contrasted with so much gray and white in the fading afternoon of the North. 

Arya had chosen to wear a forest green silk tunic that left her arms and neck uncovered, and it reached all the way down to her thighs. Instead of breeches, she wore gray skirts, to please her sister on her wedding day. She had taken them off as soon as she reached her chambers, after the ceremony.

_________________________________

Their wedding was beautiful. Small, private. And now they were both seated on big wooden chairs at the great hall. After everything, after the "incest", the secrets revealed, their wedding, they were truly happy. Everyone seemed to be. Davos, a respectable man who was Jon and Sansa's main advisor, Brienne, tall and proud and more often than not in company of Tormund Giantsbane, Pod, or well, Ser Podrick Payne now, and her. Most of all, her. "Chew, Swallow, Don't taste" was forgotten. Because the moment she tasted, happiness was the flavor. All she wanted now was to keep tasting the joy, the fun, the peace, the love.

Seven moons since she had arrived, and three moons since they married, a horn's sound woke the castle. A guard's shout alerted them. The gates opening, and a young girl, dark and tousled hair on a horse with a strange saddle on it. A young man clung to her back, with a familiar face.

Soon the King, the Queen and the Princess were standing in the courtyard in the middle of the night. Their eyes stinging with tears as the young lad was helped by some guards to get down from the horse, and laid on a chair. They did not mind the cold, the snowfall, the wind howling, for there was yet another wolf back in the pack.

_Take your time to chew, don't swallow too soon. Make sure to taste this._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. It's short. But it's not the size, it's how you use it. The reason behind the lenght of this chapter is that the story has no more development left. It is about Arya, her first and final thoughts on JonSa. In the way chapter one was short, so is this one. One gave the beginning to it, the other ended it.
> 
> Thank you, immensely, for your support and all your love. This will NOT be the last you'll see of me, of course. I have a bunch of other little ideas in my mind. I'm planning on turning them into thousands of words, the way I did with this.
> 
> Xoxo  
> Tom
> 
> Ps. I loved that you loved the "Chew Swallow Don't Taste" line. It's sort of a personal motto i thought would fit Arya's character. Glad you liked it.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa! Writing that felt good. A little shorter than what i would like, but it's late and i'm kinda tired.
> 
> So, i had thought of this as a one shot, but everything i have on my mind just won't fit, so this is going to be a multi chapter story.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. If you have any suggestions or advice, corrections also, feel free to let me know through the comments
> 
> Thanks!


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